Ballad of the 104
by itshardtostealfatkids
Summary: AU: After his parents die, Armin moves in with his grandfather in a rather...unpleasant neighborhood. After befriending a few delinquents, he finds a new home in the 104, a popular bar famed for its seedy behavior, grungy music scene, and ill-behaved patrons. And its there that he meets Annie Leonhart, and comes face to face with the terrifying prospect of love. (Rated T-M)
1. The Grandson

**Hey**** guys!**

**So, after a long Thanksgiving of family, reading Aruani fics, and listening to some old music, I've become inspired. u_u **

**If you're looking for a summary, I don't have too detailed a story planned out; I usually roll with it and see where it takes me. The general basis is that Armin's parents pass away and he has to move in with his grandfather, who lives in a rather crazy neighborhood. I'm guessing you could guess what happens. XD **

**Well, in any case, I don't own SNK (thank god. I wouldn't have been able to make it as amazing as it is) and I hope you enjoy!**

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**One: the Grandson**

"_Is this the real life? Or is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality..._"

A calloused hand pressed down on the radio dial before returning to grip the steering wheel.

Armin's gaze drew away from the front of the car, back out the rain-speckled window. The landscape blurred into bands of color; he didn't care. His mind was on autopilot, only the most basic functions being driven by his grief-stricken brain. Otherwise he was numb. He just didn't care.

His aunt sniffled. The sound was alone, just like the boy, in the otherwise stagnant and suffocating vehicle.

He wanted it to end, just for a little while.

The funeral had been beyond depressing. The only ones that had decided to show were a few family members and Armin. The priest came, of course, to direct the funeral, but that was all. In that moment, Armin was reminded of how "bizzare" his parents were in the eyes of their neighbors. Nobody cared enough to attend the double funeral of his mother and father. Nobody cared enough to hold the umbrella over his head as the rain drizzled from the clouds.

_D-don't cry_, he internally stammered, his eyes threatening to water once more. _You've cried enough_.

Cruel fate had stolen his parents from him. Cruel fate threw him into the backseat of his aunt and uncle's car, alongside his cousins, one too young to understand and the other too estranged to care. Cruel fate was driving him miles away from the place he called home, to start anew with his grandfather, the father of his mother.

"Armin," his uncle called suddenly.

The blonde jumped, his head snapping off the cold window pane. "Y-yes?"

His uncle adjusted the rearview mirror, so they could look one another in the eye. "I'm sorry, son."

Armin's throat constricted. He choked on his words. Gripping the book in his lap a bit tighter, he nodded. "Th-thanks..."

With awkward hesitance, the uncle readjusted the mirror, eyes focusing on the slick roads ahead. The road was easier to deal with. The road didn't require a kind of comfort the uncle couldn't give.

"Mommy?" the cousin asked. "Why weren't Aunty and Unc there?"

Armin looked at his aunt, who stiffened in her passenger seat. "Um, well..." His aunt shifted, turned her body to look at her daughter. For a second, her eyes flickered to Armin. But only for a second. "Auntie and Unc...well...sweetie, they passed away."

"Passed what away?"

Silence.

"Sweetie, don't ask questions, okay? Just...just read your book."

"Mommy..."

Armin's older cousin, the estranged one, was a dark girl, eyeliner caking the rims of her eyes, unperturbed by tears. "They're dead."

"Hey," the uncle warned.

"What? They are." His cousin crossed her arms over her chest, scratching her cheek. "That's what passed away means."

"Mommy?"

"For God's sake, just tell the kid what happened," Armin's uncle struggled.

His aunt sighed. "They went to heaven, sweetheart."

"Heaven?"

"Yes."

"Or hell," the second cousin argued.

"Jesus," the uncle groaned, shaking his head.

"_What_? It's not like I'm wrong. That's the alternative, isn't it?" The older cousin looked at Armin for the first time that day. "They took you to church, right? You know what's up."

Armin shook his head slowly. "They...never went. To church, I mean."

His older cousin feigned a concerned look. "Yikes. Well, then, the latter seems more...realistic."

"Shut up," the aunt warned tiredly, glaring at her daughter.

THe older cousin, turned way, sinking further into the middle seat. She clicked her tongue. "Or they went to heaven. Whatever."

The younger cousin sat a moment, looking at Armin. "Well, if your mommy and daddy went to heaven, where are you going?"

"Gr..." Armin looked desperately to his aunt. He had never been without his words before, his throat had never felt so tight.

"We're bringing him to grandpa's house. He's going to live with grandpa."

"You get to live with grandpa?" The little girl's eyes shone. "You're so lucky!"

Armin looked at the cover of his book. So many things, so many phrases, ran through his mind. _No, I'm not lucky. Haha, yeah, I guess so. I haven't seen Grandpa in such a long time though... Shut up. I want my parents back._

In the end, his mouth refused to open.

He turned to look out the window once more.

"Can you turn the radio back on?" the older girl asked.

Reluctantly obliging, not wanting to stew in the pitiful silence, the uncle pressed the dial once more, the radio panel glowing a soft green.

"_Nothing really matters, anyone can see. Nothing really matters, nothing really matters, to me._"

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**Well, what did you think? ^_^**

**I'm excited to have this going, but I can't promise super consistent updates. BUT ILL TRY MY HARDEST DAMMIT.**

**Anyways, reviews are always accepted and I hope you guys keep reading.**

**Peace, L. **


	2. New Meat

**Hey! **

**So, not much of an introduction this time around, besides thanking people for following and reading. ^_^**

**I don't own SNK and enjoy!**

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**Two: New Meat**

_"Twenty-twenty-twenty-four hours ago, I wanna be sedated_."

Armin pushed the door to his locker shut, brushing past the group of kids from where the song was playing.

He kept his head down, books tucked in between his arm and chest, and he made for the exit immediately. He wasn't big on "hanging out" or screwing around after the final bell tolled; no, the boy left as soon as he collected his things every day, not stopping to see if a smile was being cast his way.

And, if his prediction were correct- and they typically were- there wouldn't be one anyway.

The first week of school had been, quite simply, hell.

Monday had brought along plenty of unwanted attention. His grandfather insisted he get right to school, no lollygagging around, especially if he wanted to keep his grades up. And, although all Armin had wanted to do lately was sleep or read, he agreed. Senior year was stressful, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. School was easy, school was second nature. So, he went on Monday, which brought the unholy wrath of a few of the football players- the football team, the Titans, were infamously known as the armpit of the state's high school sports teams. Some kid with a closely shaven head had tossed a book at him in the hallway.

On Tuesday, the news spread. "New meat." The words echoed like a phrase uttered into a long cavern. "New meat." The shaven kid, whom Armin came to know as Connie, had friends. Some ass, Jean Kirschtein, and his buddy Marco Boldt. Armin had speculated that Marco wasn't nearly that bad. Just a tag-along, a lapdog to Jean. They pushed him around in the hall in the morning, but tired of him quickly by lunch.

Wednesday brought the wrath of a few girls. "New meat." Some girl, a friend of Connie's, named Sasha Braus, tossed a few potato chips at him. Another girl, Ymir, gave him a noogie. Nobody helped.

Thursday was almost as bad as the days that came before. A few spitballs, "new meat," a shove there, a trip here. Paper scattered on the floor. Spit on the back of his head. A few tears on his pillow at home.

Friday ended quickly, thankfully.

Armin bolted down the hallway, shouldering the front door open.

They were waiting for him. Jean and Marco, Sasha and Connie, Ymir and her girlfriend Krista. They littered the stairs, their faces lighting at the sight of him.

"Hey, hey man!" Connie shouted excitingly.

Armin took a step back.

"New meat!" Sasha laughed, fishing around in her bag of chips. "How's it going?"

"Ah..f-fine," Armin stammered, eyes finding the floor. "Just...going home."

"Doing some homework?" Marco asked, his voice a bit hesitant.

Armin nodded. There was an apology in Marco's eyes.

"Let me get a hold of that, will ya?" Jean asked, reaching into Armin's grasp.

"H-hey!"

Jean ripped the textbook from Armin's arms, the rest of his things spilling onto the staircase. The bully leafed through the book. "Philosophy." Jean contemplated the words a moment, a smirk on his face.

"Isn't that the class with the brain shit?" Ymir questioned.

"That's psychology, dip-shit," Connie retorted.

"This book isn't for a class," Jean began, shutting up the text. "What? Check this out of the library?"

"Uh, uh-huh."

"Heh. Figured." Jean tossed the book to the floor, and began a descent down the steps, kicking every other belonging of Armin's down the staircase as he went. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he grinned up at the blonde. "Say, I got a question for you, new meat."

Armin gritted his teeth, falling to his knees and indignantly picking his things up once more.

"Hey, man, he said he had a question," Ymir ordered.

"You don't have to yell," Krista sighed.

"New meat," Jean barked.

Armin kept his head down, hands busy.

Marching back up the steps, he pushed Armin off his hands and knees. The blonde fell onto his back, forced to look into Jean's burning eyes. "I said I have a question for you."

"What?" The force of his own voice surprised Armin.

"What brought you here?"

"What?"

"What the hell brought you to this school? Parents not want you anymore?"

Armin bit his tongue, sitting up and shouldering past Jean. As he bent down on the stairs, fingers finding his books, he felt something heavy collide with his side. A foot bound within a boot. His body rolled down the stone steps, the pain reverberating through his head with each slam. Nobody said a word as he curled into himself at the bottom, tossed like his papers and notebooks.

"Jean, come on, man," Connie said, concealing a snicker.

"Let's get out of here," Jean muttered, flitting past Armin. "This meat's making me sick."

And, in their obnoxious, raucous pack, they left, making for the student parking lot.

Slowly, rubbing away the pain, the blonde sat up. His head was throbbing and heavy. All he wanted to do was lie down once more. He wanted to curl into a ball on his parents' bed, feel the comforters his mother had just washed, smell the food his father would cook. Run his fingers along the spines of the books in their library. Charity. Their library had been donated to charity.

He staggered to his feet, feeling those forsaken tears of frustration prickling in the corner of his eyes once more.

_No_, he told himself. _You're not going to cry. Not here._

Grunting, he rubbed his face into the crook of his elbow. He wiped away tears, he wiped away blood; somewhere on his face, he was bleeding. He didn't care.

Bending down, he picked his things up at a lackluster pace, turned away from the school, and made for home. Home was a few miles away. Armin didn't have a car to drive like the other students, nor did he have any desire to ride the bus. He could only imagine dealing with such intimidating forces in an enclosed vehicle for however long.

Besides, he didn't mind walking.

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**So, what did you think? I'm trying to upload as frequently as possible; I'm sort of writing as many as I can now and I'll upload them periodically. ^_^**

**In the next chapter, he'll meet Mikasa and Eren, and in the chapter after, he'll go to the bar, I think. That's how it's planned out so far, but. *shrugs* Who knows!**

**Peace, L. **


	3. Book Smarts

**Hey guys! What's up?**

**Thanks for the follows and everything; they make my day, yo. Especially the reviews from tinodnyc, MostardaProductions and FlyingMintBunny579_._**

**So, as always, I don't own SNK and I hope you enjoy!**

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**Three: Book Smart**

"_Cause I'm T.N.T., I'm dynamite. T.N.T. And I'll win that fight. T.N.T. I'm a power load. T.N.T. Watch me explode._"

"Shut the hell up, Jaeger."

The brunette boy frowned, shutting his mouth and eyeing Jean from across the room. "What'd you say, Kirschtein?"

"Nobody wants to hear you screaming, Jaeger. You're making my ears bleed." Jean's words incited laughter from those around him.

"You trying to start something?" Eren Jaeger questioned, rising out of his seat.

A hand fell on the short-fuse's shoulder. "Eren," a beautiful, warning voice began. "Calm down."

After a moment of contemplation, Eren fell back into his seat, leaning closer to Mikasa over her desk, muttering something that Armin's ears could not pick up. Eren snickered to himself as Jean shifted uncomfortably in his desk.

"Oi, Eren. Quit putting the moves on your sister," Connie chuckled.

"Why? Does it bother you?" Eren smirked. Mikasa rolled her eyes. "How about you Kirschtein? Bother you?"

"Shut the hell up, Jaeger."

_Ignore them_, Armin coached. He continued scribbling lines on his paper. It did him a lot better to do so, rather than get caught up in the politics of his idiotic, violent classmates.

"We all settled down now?" Their professor, an ancient man named Pixis, grinned at them. "I've got your tests from last week. Not the most impressive bunch, but, hey, not my grade."

"Maybe if you were a better teacher," Connie huffed, leaning into his palm.

Setting his paper in front of the shaven boy, Pixis flicked the student's forehead. "Maybe if you weren't such a rotten student, huh, Springer?"

The other students chuckled alongside the teacher.

As much of a "ball-buster" as Old Man Pixis could be, he was a favorite among the students. Rumored to be drunk half the time, with his retirement already guaranteed, his teachings had gone from strict to bullshit at best within the span of two decades.

"Eh heh heh, how'd you do, Jean?" Eren questioned.

Jean scowled. "Fifty-five."

Eren tossed his head back, laughing at his misfortune. "Did shittier than last time!"

"I wouldn't laugh so hard, Jaeger," Pixis warned lightly, placing the paper face-down on the rowdy young man's desk. Waiting for him to look, Pixis smirked as Jaeger crumpled the paper into a ball and toss it at the recycling bin. "Might wanna find yourself a tutor, Jaeger. You fail this class, you lose the credit. I don't wanna have you a second year in a row." Placing Mikasa's test in her hands, he added, "Maybe you oughta take a few lessons from your sister, Jaeger."

"Sir," Mikasa sighed, raising her hand lazily. "I've tried. He can't retain any information."

"Hey! Mikasa!"

"Why not Arlert?" Connie proposed, flicking a paper football at the quiet boy. "The kid's got a shit ton of book smarts, you know. Plus, it'd do you good to have a few more friends, Jaeger. Can't hang around your sister all your life."

Armin looked up at Connie, then to Eren Jaeger.

The look of loathing made him flinch and return his attention back to his paper.

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"Oi, Armin."

Armin slammed his locker shut, locking his arm over his books. He wasn't about to have them tossed around. Not today. He wasn't in the mood.

"E-eren," Armin stammered.

The boy stood beside Mikasa, who nudged the stubborn brunette forward. "Go on, Eren," Mikasa encouraged monotonously.

Armin quirked his head.

Eren rolled his green eyes, scratching his head. "Ugh... I was wondering if you'd...dammit, Mikasa, he's not going to."

"Eren."

"_Mikasa_."

The beautiful girl looked her brother over once before her eyes flit back to Armin. It shook him. They were such intimidating eyes. Pretty eyes. Eyes dulled by something terrifying, eyes stoked by something kind. They were confusing.

"Armin, right?" Mikasa double-checked.

"Yeah," Armin nodded.

"Eren would like to-."

"_I can do it_," Eren mumbled angrily. Mikasa closed her eyes. To Armin, it was a strange sight; they acted like an old married couple. "Listen, I was wondering if you could come over and...and tutor me."

"Huh?"

"Tutor me," Eren stated. "You know, teach me. Help me out a little."

Armin's mind instantly leapt at every scenario. _What if he's just playing around? What if he's leading me into some trap? What if he really needs help? What if..._

"Why would you ask me?" Armin inquired quietly, narrowing his eyes. "Mikasa is just as smart as I am."

"Not necessarily," Mikasa interjected. "I couldn't teach Eren if I tried."

"Which she has," Eren added.

Nobody spoke.

"We could pay you," Eren informed him. Fishing around in his back pocket, he pulled out a small leather wallet. "Here." The brunette motioned for Armin to hold out his hand, before slapping a twenty dollar bill into it.

Armin examined the money in his hand before holding it out for Eren to take. "No thanks."

Eren frowned. "You sure?"

"Yes," Armin nodded, urging the brunette to take the money back. "I'll pass."

Eren grimaced at the money before slapping the blonde's hand. "Nah, man." Jaeger shook his head, closing Armin's hand around the bill for him. "Listen," he began, slinging his arm around the shorter boy's shoulder. "I need help to pass and, let's face it, a few friends at this school wouldn't really hurt you."

Armin chewed the inside of his cheek, allowing himself to be guided down the hall by Eren with Mikasa in tow. "What's in it for me? Besides the twenty dollars?"

As they left the school, Armin snuck out of Eren's friendly hold.

"What's to keep you from beating me up in school, then?"

Eren blinked at him. "I've never beat you up."

"No, but your friends have!" Armin shouted, garnering the attention of a few lingering students. "All last week. I can only imagine how much more creative Jean and his buddies'll get!"

He balled the money in his fist. The words were flowing out. Fire. He felt fire. It felt good.

"That's bullshit! I'm just asking you for help!"

"How do I know? How do I know you won't kick the crap out of me or break my stuff?"

"Because I've never done that to you before!"

"You're his friend!"

"Jean isn't even my friend!"

"That's bull-!"

"Armin."

A hand lightly brushed his shoulder, calming him slightly. The fire was there, the fire was burning, but a little less so. It was as if someone had brought him to a boil and very suddenly removed him from the stove burner.

Mikasa shook her head slowly. "Eren isn't looking to trick you. Neither of us are a fan of Jean. We promise."

Armin looked to his feet as if they held the answers.

"Will you teach me?" Eren asked, voice a little calmer.

"I don't know."

"Please?" Mikasa pushed. "Eren's too dumb to do it on his own."

"Mikasa..." Eren laughed and groaned.

Armin looked up from the ground, handing Eren the twenty.

"Look, I said I wasn't friends with that asshole," Eren began, clenching his jaw in annoyance.

"I know," Armin cleared. "But I don't want your money."

"Well," Eren began hesitantly, taking the bill back. "What _do_ you want?"

"Protection." The answer was simple.

"Huh?"

"I want you and Mikasa to protect me," Armin explained. "In exchange for me helping you pass, I-I don't want to be picked on anymore."

Eren smiled. "Really? You'll do it?"

Armin nodded.

Jaeger tossed his head back, whooping and laughing. "Sweet!" Throwing his arm around Armin's shoulder once more, he grinned. "Listen, man, you want to come out with us?"

"O-out?" Armin stuttered.

"Yes," Mikasa nodded. "Everybody at school goes."

"Everyone in _town_ goes," Eren corrected mischievously.

"Wh-when?" A small flame of excitement ignited in Armin's chest. Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

"Tonight," Eren told him, flashing a thumbs up.

"Oh..." Armin stopped just short of the buses. The wily boy removed his arm from the blonde's shoulder.

"What? What's wrong? You have plans already?"

"Ah, no," Armin shook his head. "I just have a lot of homework to take care of." A lie. Armin had finished all of his work for the next few days well in advance, as he was wont to do, but the prospect of going out on a school night was a bit blasphemous to him.

"You sure?"

"Y-yes. Thank you though..."

"Well, okay." Eren nodded.

"We should get going," Mikasa advised.

"Yeah." Eren gestured for Armin to come closer. He pulled a Sharpie out of his back pocket. "Dude, let me see your arm."

"Uh, wh-why?"

"I'm gonna give you my number," Eren told him. As he grabbed the blonde's arm, he rolled the sleeve of his dress shirt up to his elbow. "Jaeger," he narrated. "377-8942. Rock and roll."

"Rock and roll?"

Snapping the cap back on his marker, Eren grinned a toothy grin, saluting the blonde. "Rock and roll!"

Admiring the number on his arm, Armin waved to the siblings as they made for the ugly yellow school bus and he headed for home.

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**Also, I know some people are wondering why I made Jean and them the "bullies." Don't worry; everything will get "better!" ^_^**

**Peace, L. **


	4. The Grandfather

**Hey guys!**

**Thanks for all the views, reviews, and follows!**

**I don't own SNK and Enjoy! ^_^**

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**Four: the Grandfather**

"Grandpa!" Armin called. "Food's ready!"

Turning back to the stove, the boy grabbed the two macrame pot holders, lifting the steel pot off of the burner. The stove was turned off, the little blue flame disappearing.

"Armin," his grandpa smiled, voice shaking as he shuffled in on his cane. "It smells delicious."

"Thanks." Armin smiled a tiny smile. It felt good to smile. Sometimes he hated being here, living with his grandfather. This loathing usually occurred when he was in bed, lying alone in a room that wasn't really his. But sometimes he enjoyed being there. It was like he was twelve again, visiting his grandpa during his summer break.

Armin rolled his sleeves up, exposing the Sharpie on his forearm. He felt a small re-ignition of hope.

"So," his grandpa started, settling down at the tiny wooden table. The wicker chair squeaked under his weight. "How has today been, Armin?"

Armin set the pot in the center of the table, pushing the newspaper aside. He opened the cabinet by the sink, pulling out two bowls. "It was fine." He pulled open a drawer. Nothing but matches and pens and a deck of cards. "Hey, Grandpa? Where do you keep the spoons?"

"Next one over."

"And the ladle?"

"Oh, I don't have one of those anymore," his grandpa mused. "Haven't made soup since yer grandma died."

Armin nodded. He didn't remember his grandmother. She had passed away when he was a toddler.

Grandpa laughed. "But I guess, now that I got someone to cook us some soup, I should pick one up, huh?"

Setting the plate in front of his grandpa, Armin feigned a quiet laugh. "Yeah."

The two ate in silence for a little while with only the sounds of blowing and slurping between them.

"How was school?"

Armin stopped a moment. He hadn't told his grandfather about what had been happening to him. He already felt pitiful enough; he didn't want to become a burden on his grandfather, the only one who had offered to take him in.

"It was fine." Armin hesitated, looking at the broth in his spoon. "I...made a couple friends today."

"Oh?" His grandfather smiled. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Armin nodded, feeling a bit more talkative. "They're brother and sister."

"In your grade?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good, good." Armin's grandfather smiled at him reassuringly. Armin tried to return it.

Armin's grandfather was, by the teenager's standards, old. Seventy-four years old. He was a kind old man, wise and studious, too. He always offered to help Armin with his homework, though the blonde never needed it. He always offered to drive him to and pick him up from school, though Armin always politely refused; the man had difficulty getting up and down the stairs. Armin could never ask him to go so far when he could walk.

And he always patted Armin's head and rubbed his back when the tears would suddenly start to flow from Armin's eyes.

"What're they like?"

"Huh?"

"Your friends?"

"Oh." Armin grinned. "Ah, well, one is a girl and one is a boy. The boy- his name is Eren. He's...well, I don't know very much about either of them, but he's a bit hot-headed. And funny, too. And his sister's name is Mikasa. She's very beautiful and smart, too. Oh, and calm." Armin managed a small laugh. "Much calmer than her brother."

"Good," his grandpa nodded. "I'm glad you're making friends Armin."

"Thanks, grandpa."

"I really am, you know," the old man insisted. "You deserve them."

Armin nodded, sipping the soup from his spoon.

They weren't friends. Not really, anyway. They were assurance. A bartering chip.

But maybe, in time, things could change.

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**Sorry it's so short. The next two are already written and THEYRE WAY LONGER I PROMISE.**

**Peace, L.**


	5. Rock and Roll

**Hey!**

**IMPORTANT NOTE: So, I know I always start off with a song lyric, whatever. But I highly recommend listening to the songs the band plays later on in the chapter. They're great and if you don't know them, they help in getting the scene across. The first is "If You Want Blood" by ACDC and the second in "Cherry Bomb" by the Runaways.**

**ALSO A MASSIVE THANKS TO THOSE WHO ARE REIVIEWING. I'll probably list you guys off next chapter but know that I still love you. u_u**

**I don't own SNK or any of the songs, and I hope you enjoy it! ^_^**

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**Five: Rock and Roll**

"_The kids are all hoped up and ready to go now, they're ready to go now_."_  
_

"H-how do I look?"

Eren rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Better than usual, I guess. Ow." He rubbed at the spot on his arm where Mikasa had elbowed him.

"Mikasa?" Armin inquired, hoping for a good response.

She offered him a soft smile. You look...rock and roll, Armin."

The blonde couldn't bite back his smile.

Eren had passed their last test with flying colors. Something about the way Armin taught- wether it was the method or how he explained things, neither Mikasa nor Eren were sure- clicked with Eren and his less-than-enthused brain. Whatever the case was, though, they were celebrating. It was a Friday night and, after two weeks of constant invitation, Armin had finally relented and agreed to accompany his fast friends to a place called the '104.'

And so they sat in his bedroom, the place that had once been his grandfather's study, when his grandfather _required_ a study, preparing to celebrate a job well done.

Armin examined himself in the mirror. He had refused to take Eren's band shirt. It had been too filthy and to large to sit well with Armin, so he insisted on wearing a white button up. When he had tried to don a vest, Eren put his foot down. "They would take your vest off and eat it," he had advised. "Got anything black?" And so he was wearing an old military jacket from the bowels of his grandpa's attic, his oldest, unwashed jeans, and black boots. The boots, Eren had informed, were important.

"I'm ready," Armin nodded.

The three bid his grandfather farewell on their way out.

"Don't get into any trouble, grandson!" he had shouted with a smile and a wink as they pushed through the front door.

"We won't!" Armin promised, waving.

They had to walk to the bus stop; neither Mikasa nor Eren had a car to drive, just like Armin.

Armin had learned that Eren and Mikasa led complicated lives. Mikasa's parents, like his, were dead. She had grown up in the next city over, and her parents had been killed by traffickers. Apparently, it was a big problem where she had come form. Eren's family, had taken her in. It didn't take long for people to dig up Mikasa's past; they were eight years old when they took her in, but the truth came about when they were thirteen. Middle school, when kids were at their cruelest. But nobody messed around with her for it; after Mikasa had nearly beat some poor bully to a pulp, they had all learned their lesson.

But they lived alone. Not long ago, Eren's mother passed away and his father disappeared in the dead of night, no warning. Fortunately, both had access to the family's money. They rented an apartment and have been living there since they were sixteen.

The bus took them into the bustling part of the city.

Armin pressed his face to the glass, admiring the lights of the buildings as they created their own starry night overhead.

"Hooker, ten o'clock," Eren announced, pointing out a boney woman with sunken eyes and tight clothing.

"There are prostitutes here?" Armin asked. The word 'hooker' didn't taste right. It befouled his tongue.

"They're everywhere, man. We've got loads of them. Watch yourself if you're walking around at night. They'll bug the shit out of you," Eren said.

"Oh."

They hopped off the bus in front of a place that was once a movie theater, but had been renovated into something far less...family friendly. The marquee sign at the door had the number "104" bolstered at the front. The movie poster cases were filled with promotional cards and posters for bands, dating back to the nineties.

"This place is so..." Armin trailed off, admiring their surroundings.

"Keep your head in the game, man," Eren encouraged, ruffling the blonde's hair.

They passed a line of chain smokers dressed in leather and studs, and Armin quickly averted his eyes.

"Armin," Mikasa beckoned. "Don't worry. There's nothing to fear here. They won't pick on you unless you give them a reason to."

Armin shot her a gracious smile. He was instantly reassured.

The 104 had a history. A history of violence, of drugs, of sex and money and music. It was a delinquent's safe haven, it was a breeding ground for crime and adrenaline. The place was much larger than Armin had anticipated. The floor was massive, concrete with the ugly patterned theater carpet long since stripped away. A bar stretched across the wall, with enough booze to get every one of the hundred patrons black-out drunk and then some. A stage had been erected, set for bands to play their heart out.

"This place is amazing," Armin gawked.

"Pretty slick, huh?" Eren boasted pridefully.

"Pretty rock and roll," Armin laughed.

Eren punched him in the arm. "You got it! You got it! Hah! Come on, man! There's people to meet, beer to drink." After being led to the bar, Eren wagged his finger. "Wait here alright? I'll bring some back for us."

"Okay."

As Eren disappeared, Armin gaped at his surroundings. It was busy, it was chaotic. It was building up to something he couldn't imagine. The buzzing of chatter and laughter and argument melded into one sound. White lights flashed overhead. _They're not strobe lights_, he pointed out, head tipped back to admire the ceiling. _Maybe they're just faulty__._ People around him swirled, one big chaotic pot of teenagers and young adults. Smoke from cigarettes crawled up his nose, mingling with the scent of alcohol, perfume, sweat, and anticipation. It all made him a bit dizzy.

A massive click shook his eardrums. The lights dimmed to almost nothing. Only the glow of the illuminated stage gave him somewhere to go, some sort of beacon. Slowly, like a moth drawn to the light, he abandoned his post waiting for Eren, and slipped between the throngs of people. The stage disappeared for a moment; he wasn't the tallest person there, that was for sure. Out of the corner of his eye, as he drew closer, he spotted people from school. Students that had pushed and laughed, branded him "new meat."

He tensed up. Fight or flight.

He locked eyes with two of them, some couple from his trigonometry class.

Flight. Definitely flight.

He poised to run.

They merely smiled mischievous smiles and waved they bottles at him.

Armin stood dumb a moment before flicking his hands in relief, in recognition.

"Oi!" The call of a low-toned woman echoed through the room.

She was tanned and tall, strong hands holding a microphone. Her hair was an odd color, obviously not natural, dark brown and red, pulled into a ponytail.

She adjusted the glasses on her face. "Well, well, well," she mused, giggling deep from her throat. "We've got quite the turn out this fine Friday night. How many of you are finally fucking free from schoolwork tonight?"

A large cheer sounded.

"And how many of you are finally fucking free from _working_ tonight?"

An even louder scream from the crowd.

Armin smiled at the woman. He felt electrically charged.

She tossed her head back, laughing into the mic. "I'm so glad you guys came by tonight. It's...seventy degrees outside and it's a beautiful night for chaos, for intensity and insanity." She walked along the line of the stage, her red leather boots squeaking with each step. "About time to get down to brass tacks...whatever the hell that means. I know you babies are aching..."

For a moment, Armin locked eyes with the woman. She gave a wild smile.

"Oi, Hanji, get the hell on with it!"

The woman laughed at the stray command as people clapped. "What? You getting sick and tired of me already?"

A hoard of "yes's" rounded the room.

She pouted. "I'm disappointed in all of you." Hanji laughed, bending down and plucking a metal beer can out of someone's hand. Taking a long chug, she shouted, incoherent sounds pouring into the mic as she crushed the can in her hands and tossed it into the audience. "Are you bitches ready?!"

The sound of approval could have shattered Armin's eardrums.

Hanji laughed. "Alright!" Letting the mic sit in its holder, she took a simple step back before kicking it over, feedback screeching, people cheering.

"Hey, man, there you are!"

A wild arm hung around Armin's neck, making the boy jump.

"Wha-?"

"Here!" Eren laughed, shoving a beer bottle into the boy's hands. "Drink up. Can't believe you fucking left without me!"

"How'd you get this?" Armin asked, eyes frantically searching for the "non-alcoholic" label. He found none.

"Please," Eren dismissed. "Nobody card's here. Cops know better than to try and bust this place, anyway. They got their feet in here, too, you know. Fucking chief of police loves it here."

"R-really?"

"Yep. Shows up every Saturday night. He's friends with the owner."

Armin twitched. _Such...lack of responsibility..._ "Who's the owner?" he muttered under his breath.

"Ah, some little prick named Levi," Eren shrugged. "Not a bad guy. Just some punk who makes too many poop jokes."

"Huh."

Armin watched, bottle untouched in his hands, as a few people slowly put themselves together on stage. They had appeared like lightning. Armin never saw them step on stage. They were suddenly there. Like a vision. Two men and a woman.

One was blonde and too muscular for his own good. He looked like a body builder on his night off. A tattoo of a coat of arms rested on the blonde's straining neck as he idly fiddled with the bass in his hands.

The second man was tall and lean, athletic looking. Brown hair and a tanner face than the other two. He spun the drumsticks around in his fingers a few times, experimentally tapping the tops of his drums.

The woman.

Armin gulped.

She was beautiful. Her eyes were icy, were piercing and uncaring. Her blonde hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head. Her hands plucked the strings of her white guitar, moving quicker than he could keep track of, but making no sound. She said something to the bass player. He nodded. She turned and plugged the guitar into the amp.

"Jesus, these three," Eren said, half sighing, half laughing.

"...These three?"

"Yeah, these three. They go to school with us. The drummer's in my gym class."

"Really?"

"Yeah. They usually duck out of classes but." Eren shrugged, taking a swig from his bottle. "Different strokes for different folks, you know?"

"Yeah." Armin examined them, watched them move. Watched the girl crack her fingers, each covered in a varying number of plain rings. "What're their names?"

"Ah, let's see," the brunette drew. "Drummer's name is Bert. I don't know. I think that's short for something. Berthold maybe. That sounds right. And then the blonde dude's name is Reiner. And she's Annie."

"Annie?"

"Yeah."

Armin nodded to himself.

"And these bitches change band names, like, every goddamn week. New name, every time I see them," Eren snickered. "I wonder what they're calling themselves this week."

"Yeah..."

"Are you ready?" Reiner asked, breathing into the mic. Anticipation rippled through the crowd.

Bert wailed against the drums, Annie's fingers dancing along the strings of her guitar. Slowly, her head began to bob as she played her introduction alone, the drums interrupting periodically. Reiner's hands grabbed at the strings of his bass, his body moving closer to the microphone.

"_It's criminal; there ought to be a law. _

_Criminal! There ought to be a whole lot more._

_You get nothing for nothing, tell me who can you trust?_

_We got what you want and you got the lust_."

Eren bumped into Armin, causing the boy to spill beer from his bottle. He had been in a trance, watching them preform like that.

Annie's lips parted.

Eren pushed Armin's arm, the bottle's lips making contact with his own.

He took a sip.

"_If you want blood! You got it!"_

All the band members shouted, no microphones needed.

"_If you want blood! You got it!_

_Blood on the streets! Blood on the rocks! Blood in the gutter! Every last drop!_

_You want blood, you got it!"_

Armin took another swig, letting his body get thrown about by Eren and a handful of others, their bodies careening and colliding.

Annie grit her teeth, watching her fingers roam over the metal in her hands.

Reiner's foot stomped wildly in tune with the music being played

"_It's animal, living in a human zoo._

_Animal, the shit they toss to you._

_Feeling like a Christian. Locked in a cage. _

_Thrown to the lions on the second page._"

Armin opened his mouth and laughed. Laughed and screamed like he never had before. The feeling was foreign. The adrenaline rushed.

"_If you want blood! You got it!_

_If you want blood! You got it!"_

The crowd joined in this time, the words already seared into their memory.

"_Blood in the streets! Blood on the rocks! Blood in the gutter! Every last drop!_"

Reiner took control.

"_You want blood!_"

The crowd challenged him.

"_You got it!"_

Arms flung over heads, bodies crashed, sweat poured and fingers delivered their ministrations.

Annie played with a wild immortality; the moment wouldn't die and neither would she. Her music and movements were immortalized in the brain of a seventeen-year-old boy in the crowd.

Reiner grunted into the microphone, the lights catching the dog tags that sat around his neck.

Bert's arms moved so quickly, they were just blurs, like the spinning blades of a fan.

Reiner screamed.

"_Blood on the rocks!_

_Blood on the streets!_

_Blood in the sky!_

_Blood on the sheets!_

_If you want blood!_"

The music ceased for a millisecond, Reiner's voice hanging, haunting and hot.

"_You got it!_"

Annie played, Bert banged.

Reiner dropped to one knee, his bass pushed behind his back. He reached out into the surging crowd beneath him. A girl grabbed onto his wrist, her mouth taking in one of his fingers.

"_I want you to bleed for me."_

The music came a to final fall, like a plane crashing and erupting into a beautiful fire.

Everyone screamed, everyone cheered and clapped, whistles cutting through the air.

Reiner chuckled to himself, gripping the mic a bit tighter.

"Now we got a special something for ya," he began, voice lower than the song alluded to. "Our own little Lion Heart's been working on something for quite some time now." He exchanged a look with her, though her face betrayed nothing but diminishing power and boredom. He quirked his eyebrow, a crooked smile on his face. "Interested?"

The 104 lost its mind.

Reiner laughed.

Armin's hands clapped against one another so hard, he thought he had broken his bones. Eren placed two fingers in his mouth, whistling. It reminded Armin of a simpler time. Of childhood.

He nodded his head for Annie to come closer, and he took a step out of the way. She adjusted the microphone to reach her mouth; she was much shorter than the lead singer.

A few people giggled.

"No making fun of me," she warned lightly, her voice bored, calculating. Like she was a cat playing with easy prey. It made Armin's head swim.

The music started. Her hips swayed a bit. Heads bobbed around Armin. He was captivated.

Dark jeans, black boots, a red graphic t-shirt with the collar ripped by her own hands. Bracelets ran up each wrist. Her light eyes piercing through the curtain of light that engulfed the stage.

"_Cant' stay at home, can't stay at school,_

_Old folks say, you poor little fool._

_Down the street, I'm the girl next door. I'm the fox you've been waiting for._

_Hello Daddy, Hello Mom, _

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!"_

Reaching into her hair, she ripped the hair tie from her locks, the blonde falling to her shoulders in a tousled mess.

_"Hello world, I'm your wild girl,_

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_

_Stone age love and strange sounds too,_

_Come on baby let me get to you._

_Bad nights causin' teenage blues,_

_Get down ladies, you've got nothing to lose!_"

Her hips gyrated against her guitar, lips brushing the microphone as she sang into it.

Bodies ground against one another. It wasn't the electric charge Armin had felt before. It was a stirring. It was a hazy thickness that wrapped around his brain, around everyone's brains. It didn't make him want to thrash. It made him want...he wasn't sure, actually.

"_Hello Daddy, Hello Mom,_

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_

_Hello world, I'm your wild girl,_

_I'm you ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!"_

Her fingers tore through her instrument, inciting whoops of approval.

She moaned, sounds of ecstasy bouncing off the walls of the 104.

"_Hello Daddy, Hello Mom,_

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_

_Hello world, I'm your wild girl,_

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_"

The beat remained steady, her voice descending into boughts of well-placed moans and groans.

"_Hey street boy, what's your style?_

_Your dead end dreams don't make you smile._"

She took a step forward, her razor sharp eyes peeling through the veil of light. They swept over the crowd. The grunge. The filth.

They stopped on Armin. He didn't flinch. He didn't look away.

"_I'll give you something to live for,_

_Have you and grab you until your sore!_"

She rolled her eyes, rolled her head, punching the strings of her guitar. Her body moved with intention.

"_Hello Daddy, Hello Mom,_

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_

_Hello world, I'm your wild girl,_

_I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb!_

_Cherry bomb!_

_Cherry bomb!_

_Cherry bomb!_

_Cherry bomb!_

_Cherry bomb!"_

Her voice faded into a state of non-exisistance, reverberating in Armin's head.

They all cheered, the taunting smile gone from Annie's face.

* * *

**What'd you think? Opinions? Idea-rs? Let me know. ^_^**

**Peace, L. **


	6. What Drunk People Say

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**I don't own SNK (though I wish I did!). Enjoy!**

* * *

**Six: What Drunk People Say**

"_They all said she's just another groupie slut. And I said I thought you were anything but...think again_."

Armin drummed his fingers against the coffee table, the song playing beneath the low roar of mixing voices. He didn't feel at home, he didn't feel wanted.

Eyes were watching, eyes were judging. Perhaps he should have worn one of Eren's shirts after all...

"Oi, Armin." Eren nudged his arm, smirking. "Off in La-La Land. Don't tell me you're one of those silent drunks."

Armin laughed nervously. "I'm not drunk."

"That's what drunk people say."

Armin settled for a smile. He was an expert arguer, but knowing next to nothing about drunks and alcohol, he kept his mouth screwed shut.

"Here," Eren offered, holding a tiny glass of clear liquid in between his fingers. "Take this."

"Just drink it?"

"Yep," Eren encouraged. "All of it. Just in one go."

Armin sniffed it, wrinkling his nose at the repugnant odor. Still, he did as he was told, knocking his head back and swallowing the liquid in one loud gulp. His throat betrayed him, a sloppy cough erupting from the back of his throat.

Eren laughed, slapping him on the back. "Plenty more where that came from!"

"What was that?" Armin asked, wicking away spit. He set the glass on the coffee table.

"Vodka."

"Egh."

The two sat on a cushy sofa, a bit broken, but still functional. Eren had tired quickly of the band that followed their schoolmates'; they were some "pretentious, bubblegum bullshit," as Eren had put it. The brunette had led Armin to a quieter place, one the blonde appreciated a bit more. As much as the crowd electrified him, quiet was his strong suit.

Still, there were quite a bit of people in the lounge of the 104.

The place was usually off-limits to new meat, but because he was with Eren, Armin was the exception. The lounge was the backstage, the behind-the-scenes. They were bragging rights teenagers would be entitled to when they were bitter, boring adults; "_I used to roll with those bands you're listening to_" they would be able to say to their children. "_Of course, they were better back then. More soul, more desire._"

Among them were faces Armin had never seen before. Mikasa was there, yes, but she was occupied with speaking with Hanji about something inconsequential in the corner, each nursing a bottle of beer, Hanji's eyes wild with enthusiasm.

A short man with tired eyes and an undercut sat perched on a stool, a glass of black liquid in his hand. He, as Eren had informed him, was Levi, the owner of the infamous 104. The man behind the ravenous culture of their town.

Beside him, a petite girl with honey colored hair nodded, her hand toying with Levi's hair. "_Petra Ral_," Eren had said. "_Levi's girlfriend_."

There were several adults, some young, some older. A man with bushy hair bit his tongue, crying out among his friends. Another with spiked hair reminded Armin of a Hershey's kiss.

A man with a small ponytail had his arms hooked around a woman as she puffed on a cigarette.

The door flung itself open. Levi managed a tired smile.

"Guys," he greeted calmly, raising his glass at them. "Great job tonight. Keep raking them in, yeah?"

"Sure thing," Bert nodded, a coy smile on his face.

Armin watched as he shrugged his jacket off his shoulders, tossing it over an arm chair.

He didn't dare look up after that.

She was there.

He knew it.

"Annie. Hey, Annie," Eren beckoned.

Armin froze.

He heard her boots, the solid thud of every footstep as she drew closer.

"What's up, Jaeger?" she inquired, voice indifferent.

Armin eyes made it up to the coffee table. Before him, vials of vodka sat, begging to be taken. He reached out, taking two with each hand. Tossing his head back, eyes screwed shut, he took one with a few sips. He took the second in one swig. It burned. He could feel the booze shoot through him. He gave a little shake, a little hack, setting the glasses down.

Blinking away a bleary feeling, he found himself looking at her, eye to eye.

Maybe not the best first impression.

Eren hiked his thumb at Armin. "Armin Arlert," he introduced. "New."

"New, huh?" Annie muttered. She parked herself on the coffee table in front of Armin. She took up a vile, pressing it to her lips and downing it as if it were water. She held out a hand. "Annie Leonhardt."

"Y-yeah," Armin nodded, shaking her hand. His face reddened a bit at the contact. "I just moved to town."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why?" It wasn't a matter of interest, but rather a question of motive. She was interrogating him.

"My, uh, my parents just...well, they passed away, uh, pretty recently." Armin rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze.

"They bit it." Annie nodded. "I understand. Sorry."

"You...understand?"

"My mom ate it when I was ten," she explained, shrugging, reaching for another shot. "Overdose."

"Oh," Armin stammered. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she ordered, setting the glass down. "She was fucking useless. I just wish my dad would follow in her footsteps."

Armin frowned, his eyes finding hers once more. "Well...at least yours is still alive."

Annie scoffed. "Please," she drew, knocking back another vial. "He's nothing but a leeching shit. I haven't seen him in weeks."

Armin bit his tongue. Something told him he wouldn't win. Not this round, anyway. "You seem pretty open about sharing this stuff with a stranger."

"I'm an open book," Annie reasoned.

Reiner, who was not too far off, caught wind of her words. He snorted. "Bullshit, Annie."

She shot him a dead look.

Reiner returned to his conversation.

Silence.

The soft sound of music.

Armin sat back in the sofa. "S-so," he attempted. "You were really great."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"Thanks."

Silence.

"It's my first time here, you know."

"No shit?"

"Y-yeah," Armin smiled. "I've never really been into music much- well, not this genre anyway- but I really like it, from what I've heard."

Annie smirked. "And how much have you heard?"

"W-well, Eren and Mikasa have played a few things for me. There's always something playing in Eren's room. It's never quiet." Armin laughed to himself. "A-and when I came here, I heard you three play. If the rest of it's anything like you guys, then I have a lot to look forward to."

"Yeah," Annie nodded, her lips curled up. "You do."

Silence.

Armin floundered internally.

_Think of something_, he told himself. _She probably thinks you're boring._

"And, I really liked-."

"Oi, Annie." Levi waved her over. "I want to converse with you in private a moment."

Annie sighed, plucking up two more vials. Pressing one to her lips, she poured it down the hatch. Licking the fire from her lips, she held out the other to Armin. He took it, fumbling a bit when their fingers brushed in passing.

"Hold this for me," she requested, rising from the coffee table. "I'm not quite finished with you yet."

"O-okay," Armin squeaked, nodding his head. As she stepped over Eren's propped-up legs, he watched her walk away. Hips swaying as she went. Heat seeped into his face.

Instead, he focused on the vodka he craddled in his fingers.

Eren snorted as soon as Annie had disappeared, off into the confines of Levi's office. "Jesus, you're easy."

"Wh-what do you...?"

"Got the hots for Lion Heart, huh?" Eren asked, a knowing smile on his face. Taking a swig from his bottle, he slapped Armin's leg reassuringly. "You were kind of obvious, but, hey, that kind of shit might work on Annie. She might be into that stuttering puppy thing."

"I don't...I don't know what you're talking about," Armin retorted.

"Come on, man," Eren groaned. "I'm not gonna lie, that'd be sort of hot. Not too hot, but hot enough."

"I..."

"You think she's hot right?"

"W-well, I mean, she-she's very attractive, and..." Armin shrugged. "And talented."

"She seems to like you enough," Eren assured. "First time she met me, knocked me flat on my ass. Of course, I could never get past the shnoz. And we always thought she was fucking asexual or something."

"I told you she wasn't, man," Reiner informed Eren. "Remember that time she went to the back room with the drummer from...shit, what band was it? Ebony in Jeans?"

"No, no," Bert denied. "That was Hitch, not Annie."

"Quit eavesdropping," Eren dismissed. "Point is...well, I don't think there's much of a point here, but fucking go for it, Armin."

"I don't know, Jaeger," Reiner interjected. He kicked off the wall. "I mean, Annie'd probably kill him."

"You think so?"

"Maybe." Reiner shrugged his over-sized shoulders. "Annie isn't the easiest person to get along with, let alone sweep off her feet."

Armin shifted uncomfortably. "Is she...is she really _that _bad?"

"You good at talking to girls?" Reiner inquired.

The blonde gave a shaky laugh. "I'm not good at talking to much of anyone."

"Heh." The bassist took a look at the drink in his hand, swishing it around before handing it to Armin. "Here. A little liquid courage never hurt anyone."

Armin shifted the shot glass into one hand, taking Reiner's drink in the other. "What is it?"

Reiner winked. "Like I said, man. Liquid courage."

"Just drink it, Armin," Eren sighed. The blonde looked to his new friend, a bit wary. "Don't worry. It'll help you talk to Annie."

"Make sure you keep an eye on him, Jaeger," the bassist advised, making his way across the room.

"Don't worry." Eren clapped Armin on the shoulder. "I've got your back, man. Enjoy yourself."

"W-well...okay," Armin murmured, pressing the glass to his lips. The concoction was semi-sweet and bitter. It burnt the bottom of his throat but his taste buds ached for more. "This isn't so bad," he mused.

Eren laughed. "That's the spirit, man."

Time passed, the songs changed.

The cup drained.

"Eh heh heh," Armin giggled, waving the cup in Eren's face. "All gone. Got anymore?"

"I think you're solid for now, man," Eren laughed, words beginning to slur.

"Mm'kay, mm'kay." Armin set the cup aside, leaning back in his chair. Everything around him tipped and spun. His head swam. He blinked his eyes, only acutely aware of the toll Reiner's "confidence" was taking on him. "I feel like I could do a whole lot of shit, Eren."

"You just fucking swore, dude. First time I ever heard you swear."

Armin gasped, clamping his hand over his mouth. "I swore?" His hand maneuvered up his face a bit sloppily. "Oh no, oh no. I shouldn't'a done that."

"Why the hell not?"

"My-_ hic_- my mom never liked swearin'. She said it was what people with low I.Q.s did. Wa'n't smart."

"Ah, don' be such a mama's boy, Armin...Ar-a-mean. Arrrrmin."

Armin chuckled, rolling his head along the back of the sofa. "Whatever."

"Oi," a female called. The bleary eyes of the boys moved up, stopping on Annie's figure. "Armin, right?"

"Yep!" he nodded.

She made an amused sound, but her face betrayed nothing. "Do you have what I left with you?"

Armin looked around, eyes flooding with panic. "What you...left?"

"The shot, dumb ass," Eren whined, lolling his head animatedly.

"Oh," Armin stated. "..._Oh_. No, sorry." He giggled nervously, rubbing his head. "I drank it. On accident."

Annie frowned. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hmm. S-sorry."

"Huh." She plucked the empty shot glass up off the coffee table, squinting into it. "In that case, you owe me."

"I owe you?"

"Yes."

"Well..." Armin shrugged, blinking away the blurriness in his eyes. "What'd you have in mind?"

"The bar downstairs," Annie stated. She nodded her head towards the door. "Come on."

"Okay." Armin nodded to himself, attempting to pull his body off the sofa. Wobbling as he stood, he fell back into the sofa. Eren shoved him up, laughing as he nearly collided with Annie. She took a step to the side, allowing the blonde to fall flat on his chin. "Oh. I fell."

"Yeah."

"I fell," Armin repeated, rolling onto his stomach. He laughed, covering his face. "I'm sorry. I think I fell."

"I think so, too," Annie agreed, suppressing a smile. Grabbing his wrist, she hoisted him to his feet.

The two eventually made their way out of the lounge, down the long, graffitied hallway, Armin occasionally careening into the wall and falling into short fits of hysterical laughter. Once or twice, he thought he heard her laugh, too, but upon looking at her, he found her stoically amused.

Wading through the crowd was easier somehow. The constant back and forth current seemed to bump him into a straight line as he followed Annie up to the bar. They nudged a few people aside. Armin offered her the spare seat.

"I think you need it more, lightweight," she insisted.

Reluctantly, he plopped down onto the stool. "So, what do I owe you, Annie?"

"You'll see." She flagged down the bartender. "Caramel vodka, no ice." Turning to the drunk boy, she added, "Your treat."

"I kin'a figured," he sighed, resting his chin in his palm. "So, do you always play solo?"

"I wasn't solo."

"I mean singing. Do you sing alone? Up in the front all the time?"

"No." Annie shook her head, reaching to grab her glass from the bartender. "Tonight was my first gig."

"You...were...wonderful," he drew.

She didn't thank him. "So you're a friend of Jaeger's?"

"Uh-huh."

"What the hell would make you think that was a good idea?"

Armin flinched before noticing the tiny grin on her face. He smiled at her. "It wa'n't really my decision. I was getting picked on, he needed help in school. We made an arrangemen': I help him do better, he made sure nobody tried to beat me up again."

"Again?"

"Yeah. First week," Armin started, pointing to his cheek. "Pushed down the stairs of the school."

"I don't see anything."

"Oh." He lightly slapped his hand onto his face. "Must've healed."

"Yeah. Must've." She paused a moment, taking a drink. "Who beat you up?"

"Huh?"

"Who beat you up? Pushed you down the stairs?"

Armin slammed his hand on the bar, his words slurring. "Jean Kirsten...er...Kirschtein. And Connie _fucking_ Springer." He rocked his head, listing them off, counting them on his fingers. "Ymir Whatever. Krista Whatever. Sasha Blouse. No, Braus. Brows."

"I know all of 'em," Annie nodded. "You go to Saint Maria's then, don't you?"

"Yes."

"None of them are so bad," Annie stated, running her finger around the rim of her glass. "Just a bit stupid."

"Jean's an ass."

"Think so?"

"Yeah."

A sly smile peeled across Annie's face. She leaned her head in. "Jean treats you like shit because he doesn't know you. He doesn't know anything about you."

"He knows how far he can throw my stuff," Armin mumbled grumpily.

Annie stopped. She thought. "I'm not a gossip, alright, Armin?" He nodded. "But I'll give you ammunition. Help you out a bit; you seem like you need it." She wagged her finger. He tilted his head; she pressed her lips to his ear. "If Jean ever fucks with you, call him out on Marco."

"Marco?"

"He comes here with Marco every Monday through Thursday and the two get drunk and fuck around."

Armin blinked. "R-really?"

"Yeah." She took a sip. "It's not that big a secret...and it's also none of my business. But Jean's sort of sensitive about it. It'd throw him off."

Armin smiled, leaning against his hand. "Annie, you're so nice."

She nearly choked on her alcohol. "I'm _not_ nice," she insisted, wiping her mouth on her wrist.

"Yeah, you are. You're helping me an' you don't even know me. That's nice- that's a nice thing. You're nice."

Annie let out a huff, a bit annoyed. Mostly entertained.

Silence settled between the two, Annie tracing her cup, Armin watching.

"They said you weren't nice."

Her finger ceased.

"Who said that?"

"The boys. Reiner and Eren. They told me you would kill me." Armin laughed, his breath reeking of alcohol. "But _you_ helped me."

"Huh." Annie clicked her tongue. "What else did they say about me?"

"They said..." He pressed a finger to his lips. "Don't tell the guys I told you. I just moved here, you know. New friends. They said you were into puppies. No, wait, maybe dumb puppies? And you weren't swept off your feet. Oh, and you...did stuff with somebody in jeans. Wait, wait, no that wasn't you. _You're_ asexual. That's what they said." He nodded to himself.

"Asexual, huh?"

"Yep."

Annie stared at her drink.

"Sorry."

Her eyes snapped up. Armin smiled at her.

"Sorry," he apologized. "I think I might be a little drunk."

Annie smiled. Stepping in closer, she tilted her head, becoming even with Armin. "What do you think?"

"I said I think I'm'a little drunk?"

"No." She shook her head.

Armin blinked, his face growing red. "I think your close."

A small laugh erupted from her mouth. She quickly closed her lips, silencing it. "No, really. What do you think, _Armin_?"

"I think..." He trailed off, reddened eyes examining her face. "I think you don't give a damn what I think."

"Correct," she admitted quietly. "But that's not what I meant." Her fingers snuck up the front of his shirt, hooking around the collar. "Do you think I'm asexual?"

Armin gulped. "I don't...I don't really _know_...you."

"I _think _that can be easily remedied."

Armin held his breath.

* * *

**So? Did you like it? ^_^ **

**I'd love feedback! Was Annie too out of character? Was there anything you enjoyed? Haha, let me know!**

**Peace, L.**


	7. the Lines on her Face

**Hey guys!**

**Thanks to *deep breath here* Blademon11, Brook Uchiha Daughter of Zues, Terra Bird, FlyingMintBunny579, DGraySun, Mostarda Productions for being wonderful people and writing in. And I love the people who read and follow and what not jsut as much. **

**I don't own SNK and Enjoy! ^_^**

* * *

**Seven: the Lines On Her Face**

The first thing Armin woke up to was the light seeping in through his bedroom window.

The terrible, awful, cantankerous, goddamned light.

Wait, no. This wasn't his bedroom.

He winced, his hands fumbling to cover his eyes.

The senses in his body came crawling back with a sluggish slowness, first his sight, then his hearing, and his feeling shortly thereafter.

He was on a futon. How he had gotten there was beyond him. His jacket was gone, tossed over the back of some ratty arm chair, currently occupied by a snoring body. His dress shirt was missing a button, but otherwise remained intact and on his person. The covers that swathed him were warm. He felt pressure on his legs.

Armin mustered his strength. Squinting through the invading light, he raised his head slowly, only to find that his skull rang with a dull, throbbing pain.

There was a body on the hard mattress, curled up like a dog on top of his legs. The brunette hair was mussed beyond recognition. A leather jacket was being used as a blanket.

"Er...en?" Armin muttered. Rolling a bit, he could make out the body that slept stiffly on the chair. Mikasa, her face nuzzling the red scarf draped around her neck.

A familiar face laid on the ground, limbs sprawled out and face stuck to the carpet, one he most definitely didn't expect to see.

"Sasha." Armin's voice was barely louder than a whisper.

She snored loudly.

He curled back into his spot on the futon, panic flooding his body.

_Why do I feel like I'm dead? And where am I? Oh, God. What's Grandpa going to say? I bet he's worried about me. I never called him to let him know where I was or-or anything. I need a phone... But I don't want to move. I feel like I'm going to be sick or something. What is this?_

Something shifted to his left.

Armin rolled his head, through the pain of moving slightly.

A streak of blonde.

His heart burst from his chest. His muscles tightened to the point of breaking.

_Annie_.

If memory served correctly, yes, that was her name. Why was he having such a hard time recalling? Half of the night was a black screen, as if he was staring into a place the sunlight had never dared to touch.

Annie flit slowly out of a darkened room, a glass of water in her grasp. Her bare feet padded against the linoleum as she entered the kitchen. The fridge opened. Something fell. She cursed under her breath.

Armin rolled onto his elbow, gritting his teeth. Why the hell did it hurt so much?

Her feet carried her to the living room. She stopped, staring down at Armin, leaning against the threshold of the door.

He unscrewed his eyes. She was staring at him with indifference.

Dumbly the words fell from his mouth. "It hurts."

"I thought it might." She took a sip from her cup, doing nothing else to help. She didn't even move.

He cradled his head in his hand. "What happened?"

"Hm?"

"What happened...last night?"

"Oh." She took another sip, making her way over to the futon. She sat beside Armin, offering the glass to him.

He shimmied out from underneath Eren's body. The brunette grumbled a bit, but fell back into a steady sleep.

Armin drank greedily from her cup. The water was so refreshing. Sure, every move he made caused him pain, but it was worth it.

"Thanks," he huffed, handing the glass back.

She nodded. "How much do you remember?"

"I remember..." Armin trailed off. "I think...I remember getting there...and watching you preform. Um, I think I remember going somewhere else with Eren. And you. You were there. For a minute I think?" Armin laughed nervously. "I don't remember really."

"That's the farthest?"

"Y-yeah."

Annie nodded, taking a sip. "Good."

"G-good?"

She merely nodded, eyes fixated on the wall in front of them. "Good."

"Um...A-Annie?" Armin felt as if the word was sacred territory, her name something that should never have touched his tongue. Her eyes flicked up to him. He took it as a greenlight. "Where are we?"

"Rivialle's apartment," she answered. "North Street."

"Rivialle's?"

"Levi," she retorted. "Short guy, undercut, bags under his eyes."

"O-oh."

Silence.

He wasn't yet comfortable with the silence between them, though it seemed to be a common occurrence.

He shot her a look out of the corner of his eye. Tired, she seemed. Awake, but tired. She could use more sleep. Especially after a night of dirt and filth, of booze and blistered fingers. Annie had lines on her face, from sleeping deeply, her face pressed against rough, patterned fabric.

"You have lines on your face," he told her quietly.

She frowned. "Huh?"

"Lines," Armin repeated. He gestured to his own cheek. "Um...on your...face."

"Oh." She ran a hand over her skin, fingertips feeling the divots, the bumps. "I slept on the floor in there..."

"Carpet?"

"Yeah."

Armin laughed quietly into his palm. "I used to get them, too. My grandpa has carpet in his house. When I was a little kid, I u-used to fall asleep on the floor reading. And I always had those lines and squiggles on my face."

She stared at him blankly, her face softening a bit. "Yeah. You told me about your grandpa."

"I...I did?"

"Yes. You told me a lot last night."

"Oh." Armin blushed, chuckling nervously. "I...hope it wasn't anything too embarrassing."

"Not too bad," she shook her head. "I mean, it couldn't be as bad as some drunk bastard asking you if you were asexual."

"Someone...someone _did_ that to you?" Armin asked, voice conveying innocent disbelief.

She merely stared.

"I-I mean!" He waved his hands defensively. "I mean that's fine if you are! I just...you seemed a-annoyed by it."

"It was you."

"Eh?"

"_You're_ the bastard who asked me."

Armin twitched. "I did?"

"Yeah."

"...I..."

Silence. Stunned, mortified silence.

"I AM SO SORRY! I-I SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THAT? WH-WH-WHY WOULD I DO THAT? I CAN'T BE-I'M SORRY. I APOLOGIZE. WHY WOULD-?"

"You were drunk," Annie explained lightly, carelessly. "It happens."

"I'm still sorry."

"It's alright," she insisted. "You're not the first person to do something stupid when you were drunk, and you're certainly not the last."

"Ha-have you ever done something stupid?"

Annie's eyes flickered a moment. The wall that kept her everything- her emotions, her thoughts, her memories- broke for a moment. "Everyone has," she told him, pressing the glass to her lips. "I'm no exception."

Armin made a small noise. She didn't want to continue. He didn't want to press. "So...what did happen? L-last night?"

"You got into a fight," she told him.

"Eh! Really?"

"No."

Silence.

Annie shifted a bit uncomfortably. "It was a joke."

"O-oh," he smiled, mustering a tiny laugh.

"You just hit on me."

Armin nearly threw up.

She continued. "Well, 'hitting on' probably isn't the most accurate term. You were drunk and you asked if I was asexual and told me I..." Annie paused, her eyes narrowing. "No, that's it."

"I told you what?"

"Nothing."

"O-oh...kay..."

"Don't worry about it."

Armin nodded. She was so enigmatic. Such a closed book, a mystery. "Is that all?"

"Hm?"

"That's...that's all I did right?" Armin inquired.

Annie nodded slowly. "Yes. That's all."

Armin nodded with her.

It was a lie. He wasn't dumb; he knew a lie when he heard it.

* * *

**Hey!**

**IM SO SORRY ABOUT THE DELAY. It's finals week at school so I got a little caught up. I'm going to be updating a little less frequently for the next week, but after that, I'm off for about a month, so I'll be updating more. ^_^ I apologize for the length, too. It's a crappy chapter, but we'll get into better things soon, I promise.**

**Peace, L.**


	8. Inspiration

**Hey all! **

**Thanks for being patient; I love all of you guys for being so supportive and nice and honest about what you think. ^_^**

**I don't own SNK and I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

**Eight: Inspiration**

"_Men of five, still alive through the raging glow, gone insane from the pain that they surely know_." _  
_

Armin kept his head down.

School had become significantly more tolerable ever since he befriended Eren and Mikasa; nobody attempted to mess around too badly. Just a little shove here, a spitball there, a sign patted onto his back every once in a while.

Unfortunately, the only thing he couldn't necessarily withstand was the twisted circus that was their gym class.

His class was the largest of that year, kids spanning several grades mixed into one cesspool of brewing trouble. There were athletic children, ones who knew what they were doing, their bodies built to tackle any obstacle a middle-aged powdered-donut-eating gym teacher could throw their way. Then there were the bored looking girls who hardly participated, staying in their own pack near the sidelines, their sweaty jerseys forming a massive, uncaring clump. A few students lingered on the sidelines, the volunteer substitutes who had never felt the pain of a soccer ball stubbing their toes or the metal of a linoleum bat in their hands.

Armin carried a cardboard box of disinfected shin guards in his hands, trailing behind the other students.

_Maybe I ought to start working out or something_, he lamented. The sweat was already beginning to form on his brow, matting his hair to his forehead.

"Oi, Arlert."

A feeling of dread washed through Armin's body. "J-jean."

"What's the matter, huh?" The taller boy elbowed the blonde, sending him wobbling. "Not strong enough to carry that on your own?"

Armin frowned. "I'm not looking to start a fight w-with you...Jean."

A snicker escaped Jean's mouth. "Whatever, Arlert," he scoffed, taking larger strides, powering away from the boy with two soccer balls under his arms. "You're not worth the sweat."

As the bully drove himself out of range, Armin sighed. Of course, he wasn't looking forward to the body checks and bruises he'd receive later on, but still. Prolongation wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

Once he had padded onto the yellowed grass of a dying football field, he dropped the box at the foot of the gym coach.

"Go on," the instructor nodded, waving a strong finger towards the students lined up so dutifully in a row. "Get in line."

"Right!"

Armin bolted, avoiding any gaze, every gaze.

"Alright, Reiner Braun?" Nothing. "Not here again, eh?" Their coach, Keith, shook his shaved head in disappointment. "Armin Arlert?"

"H-here."

"Sasha Braus?"

"Yeah!"

"Marco Boldt?"

"Yes, sir."

"Mina Carolina?"

"Present."

He continued to rattle off the names of every student. Armin recognized a few of them, really recognized them, as something other than his peers. There were chain smokers and dancers, people that drank shots from tiny orange glasses, people that hurled into the bathroom, tangled in one another's arms. All of it, all of _them_ in that place, that breeding ground that caused Armin so much happiness.

"Annie Leonhardt?"

Nothing.

"Again..." Keith clicked his tongue, moving on.

Armin's brow furrowed. _Annie_? How long had she been in his gym class?

The class split into two teams. Armin, as much as he desired to, didn't end up on the sidelines as one of the substitute players who would never see action. He stood in the back on defense, an unambitious gym class position.

The ball bounced between players, hitting shins and breaking toes. People shouted to one another, angry and urgent. Sweat poured. Armin wicked the sweat under his bangs away with the back of his hand. The sun beat down, blinding on the shadeless field.

_She's in my class_?

He tried to remember, he fingered through every memory of his horrid hellish gym class, looking for that streak of blonde, that pinkish nose, those icy eyes. He felt he would have recognized her. He would have been stunned by her presence, her beauty. How often did she skip? Would it affect her grade too greatly? He bit the inside of his cheek. Where was she now?

"Oi! Arlert! Look alive!" Mina Carolina pleaded from the goal cage.

"E-eh?"

Armin blinked, wiping his head around. The ball barreled towards him, people in red jerseys running desperately behind it.

He stepped out of the way, his legs turning to follow the black and white soccer ball.

Shouting. He heard it. He threw his leg out, aiming to kick it away from the goal, away from Mina.

"Not today, Arlert!" Jean swept up from behind, knocking Armin aside. The blonde flailed, grabbing at Jean's sleeve, something to stable himself, to save him from a hard collision. Jean shouted. "Get the hell off me!"

He struck his elbow out, landing a solid blow into Armin's face.

He fell to the ground, eyes pinching together in pain. His fan flew to his face. He felt liquid seeping onto his fingers and lips. He tasted it. The coppery taste of blood.

Keith blew the whistle. The game ceased. Armin bit back strained grunts, sitting himself up, covering his nose.

"Pull it back, Kirschtein!" Keith barked. "Let me see, Arlert."

Slowly, Armin drew his hand away. A few girls made gagging sounds, a few boys chuckled and groaned.

Keith sighed. "Get your ass up, Arlert, and get to the infirmary." The bald man turned to the class, his head shimmering in the blaring sun. "Who's gonna walk him?"

Nobody volunteered.

"I can...handle myself," Armin insisted, staggering to his feet. He recovered his nose, his head thudding with the adrenaline of being embarrassed. "I-it's fine."

Keith grimaced. "Fine." He waved his hand, ushering Armin off the field.

The blonde trotted away, hearing the whistle blow behind him, restarting the match.

He avoided the infirmary as his sneakers squeaked down the marble floors. It would mean calling his grandfather, most likely to take him home, and he didn't want to put that on the older man.

Through the heavy scent of blood in his nose, he could barely smell anything else, though he could make out the faintest cloud of smoke billowing from around the corner.

Curiosity made him veer off his path.

What he found stunned him.

With a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, her eyes wide with paranoia, she still looked stunning.

"A-annie," Armin uttered.

"Nh," she mused, drawing the cigarette from her lips. She blew the smoke out from between her pink lips. "It's you."

"Wh-what are you...I-I mean..."

"I told you I go here," she replied.

"Y-yes but, don't you...usually skip?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "You could say you...inspired me." Annie paused, gesturing with her cigarette towards his face. "What's the matter with your nose?"

"O-oh! Right." He lifted his hand. "Just gym class."

Her eyebrows raised at the sight of his bloodied face. She took one more drag before tossing it to the floor, her black boot snuffing out the pink embers. She nodded her head. "Come on," she urged. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Hesitantly, he followed.

She made a beeline for the bathroom. Her hand rested on the "Women's" door.

"W-wait!" Armin shouted. Annie paused. "W-w-we...I-I can't g-go in there..." He looked away bashfully, pink tinting his cheeks.

"It isn't a big deal," Annie began.

"B-but it's...indecent."

She rolled her eyes, making for the men's bathroom just across the hall. Her hand gripped his wrist and she took him along as she shouldered the bathroom door open.

He made a panicked sound as she flung him forward, towards the sinks. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, she gave half to Armin. "Here." She turned the faucet on, running the other sheets under the water. "Make it stop the bleeding."

He did as he was told, mopping his face with the harsh paper sheets.

"S-so, why weren't you in gym?" he ventured, attempting to broach the silence.

"I'm not a fan."

"O-of sports?"

"No, of organized bullshit."

"O-oh."

Silence.

"Well, I understand your dislike towards it," Armin grinned. "This isn't the first time that has happened."

Annie looked up at him from the corner of her eye. "Why don't you skip then?"

"Huh?"

"Skip. Cut class. Play hooky."

"Isn't that...b-bad?"

"You calling me "bad"?"

"Ah! N-n-no! Of course not!"

She shut the faucet off, wringing the paper towels out. Armin let the dry towels fall from his face. He took the damp ones from her, patting his face. "S-so...I inspired you?"

"What?" she asked.

"Earlier. You said that I...I inspired you?"

"Oh." She looked into the sink. "You don't remember much from Friday night, do you?"

Armin shook his head bashfully. "N-no. I'm sorry."

Annie nodded. "In your drunken state," she began, "you kept babbling about all sorts of shit." Armin ducked his head, embarrassed. "And you kept going on and on about education and learning and reading and shit. Said it was one of the most important things to you. And you kept going on about how much you enjoyed school, even though some kids would kick the shit out of you." Annie shrugged. "I guess I forgot that learning matters to some people. I was never into school and shit." Her eyes found themselves in the mirror and she gripped the porcelain sink. "I might've been if I had grown up in a different place. Different parents, different peers. I don't know." She shrugged again. "I don't know."

"Wow."

Annie turned sharply, eyeing an awestruck Armin.

"What?"

"I've just never heard you talk so much," he admitted. "From the way you tell it, I did most of the talking."

"You can talk a lot, that's for fucking sure," she huffed, lips curling into a tiny, playful smile. He mimicked, though much, much larger.

"I wish I could remember more," he told her, rubbing away the final specks of red and tossing the paper towels into the trash. "I feel kind of bad about it."

"There's no reason to," she told him. "I've forgotten plenty before. Just be grateful you didn't vomit everywhere."

Armin laughed. "Did that happen to you?"

Annie chewed her bottom lip, nodding slowly. "Yes. But only once."

The blonde couldn't help but laugh. He covered his mouth. "Sorry."

"To be honest," she began through gritted teeth, "I wish you could remember, too."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Her feet slid forward. He stumbled back a bit. She grinned, maliciously. The bored expression was gone, replaced by amusement. "You're afraid of me."

"N-no."

"A lot of people are."

"W-well," Armin stole himself, stole his shaking body. He had overlooked the fact that they were alone in a bathroom before, but that small detail was making itself known very quickly. "I'm not."

Annie's eyes roamed over him, sizing him up. Her mind was calculating, and, despite calculations being the blonde boy's forte, he was floundering. "You want me to tell you what happened on Friday?"

Armin didn't speak. She took another step forward. He shook. He held his breath. She was so small, so intimidating.

Annie's fingers snuck up his shirt, her finger hooking in his collar. "Well, do you?"

He made a tiny noise, nodding his head. The heat seeped into his beet-red cheeks. She smirked, tugging hard on his collar.

Armin yelped, the sound abruptly cut off by a crushing pair of lips on his own.

The kiss was messy. It tasted of metal and salt and cigarette smoke, of anticipation and expressed desire.

Armin had never kissed a girl before. It was unexplored territory. Her body was suddenly foreign, an uncharted island for him to explore.

Slowly, he pressed into in, shaky hands sliding up her bare arms, over her thick shirt straps. He brushed aside her fringe, cupping her heated cheek in his palm.

They parted for air for only a moment. It was only when they had separated that Armin felt the impact. The absence she left in her wake. It made his stomach stir, his mind blur.

She found his mouth again instantly. This was more fervent, more needy. Armin backed up, his body pressing against the cold wall. He shivered against the tiles, the tingle shooting up his spine.

He studied her as she moved and attempted to match the way her lips parted, roaming over his own. He captured her bottom lip in between his, his teeth lightly scraping hers. She took it as a challenge, an invitation. As she pushed him harder against the wall, he gulped. Her eyes were so intense. Scary, but unguarded.

The word tumbled out of his mouth and he smiled nervously. "H-hi."

She bent down, placing a kiss on his neck. Armin tensed up. "Shut up, Arlert."

He laughed anxiously.

The bell outside the bathroom tolled.

She took a step back.

"Still think skipping is bad?"

Armin said nothing. He merely stayed plastered to the wall, afraid to move, afraid to speak.

Annie smirked, pushing out into the hallway.

* * *

**So, what'd you guys think? Im sorry about the delays. Now that I'm home and out of school, things should be picking up...I hope. ^_^**

**Peace, L. **


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